


Rose Patisserie

by schittsgeek



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Co-workers, Dating, Fluff, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 04:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schittsgeek/pseuds/schittsgeek
Summary: David looked around at the Parisians reclining on the wrought iron patio furniture, the street around them bustling with shoppers and sightseers. What if he could bring a bit of European café culture back to Manhattan somehow?The prompt was: David opens a bakery AUAU is the Rose family before they lost all their money... and maybe in this AU they never do.A lot of references are canon but I have taken artistic license ofc!





	Rose Patisserie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamformetoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamformetoo/gifts).



**April**

David was beginning to feel glad that his shocking discovery had coincided with Alexis’ latest debacle because this impromptu trip to Paris was turning out to be just what he needed. It was impossible to imagine that it was just a fortnight ago that he had found out his parents had been funding his art gallery. The past two weeks of luxe shopping trips, spa treatments and European coffee had been rather distracting. As soon as he had sorted Alexis an emergency passport at the US embassy and she had detangled herself from an embarrassing mix-up of identity surrounding the theft of some high-end diamonds, they set about making the most of their time in Paris. David dove into his eggs benedict the moment the waiter had stepped away from their table.

“Ew, David – have a little finesse”

 “I’m in a very anxious headspace right now, and it is making me hungry” His cutlery sliced through the air as he painted a picture of emotion with his hands. 

 “Well, whatever you do, don’t get me blacklisted from this hotel” Alexis shot him a glare as she noticed the hostess giving the bickering pair a withering glance. Hôtel Plaza Athénée was the Rose family’s home from home when in Paris; being a stone’s throw away from Moira’s favourite couture houses.

“Anyway, don’t you think hammering your AMEX Gold in Paris as a reaction to finding out our parents were subsidizing your cultural output is like, a tad ironic?” Her eyebrows arched as she studiously salted her scrambled eggs. Her nonchalance had always infuriated David, who may as well have had smoke billowing out of his ears as he shut his eyes and collected his thoughts for a response.

“You know what, Alexis?” he snapped. “Next time you need me to jet across the ocean to extricate you from your latest crime scene, I will NOT be available”.

“ughhhh… fine!” Alexis whined. “I just wondered what you were going to do now?”

David set down his cutlery delicately, his plate immaculately cleared.

“Honestly, the next thing on my to do list is coffee and pastries” and with that he picked up his Marc Jacobs waist bag, and sauntered out of the hotel restaurant.

“You can’t hide in Paris forever!” she shouted after him, whipping out her phone to message that charming sommelier they had met in the Latin Quarter the previous night.

An hour later, David was deep into some freeflow journaling outside Patisserie Malitourne where he had sampled one too many sweet treats. He was just complimenting the server on the pistachio macarons as they took his empty plate away when he realised, _this_ was what he ought to be doing. Besides his fantastic eye for fashion and art, his appreciation for fine food was unmatched. What he needed to do was start over with a new business, one that was bound to succeed. The demand for coffee and pastries would never die down, would it? He looked around at the Parisians reclining on the wrought iron patio furniture, the street around them bustling with shoppers and sightseers. What if he could bring a bit of European café culture back to Manhattan somehow?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Moira sighed, looking out over Central Park. Her little spat with David over his reluctance to fill in for Eva Longoria and be the dummy to her ventriloquist had turned sour. Luckily her wit and vigour has turned her performance as both puppet and puppeteer into a hilarious one woman show and accounted for a surge in donations at the Everybody Nose Benefit for Juvenile Rhinoplasty. But last week, she hadn’t known that would happen and in a fit of panic and uncontrolled rage had thrown her words like daggers at her son. Damaging his already fragile ego with the knowledge that his pride and joy, his gallery, was a complete financial farce. She had also broken their strong bond, temporarily she hoped, as he then upped and fled to Paris with the excuse that Alexis needed him, whatever for she would not be tempted to ask.

Now she wanted to head over to Tom Ford’s store for a little soiree with some of his closest friends (and funders, when she considered harder), and David wasn’t here to enjoy it with her. She knew this would be right up his street.

“Moira!” Johnny’s yell threw her from her mental montage of David trying on sunglasses and she almost jumped right out of her Jean Paul Gaultier booties.

 “Johnny!” she exclaimed “you interrupted my phantasmagoria”

 A blank-faced Johnny caught her gaze “Well, Moira I just got a call from David!”

She turned away from him to look back out of the window and saw that it was almost time for the cherry blossoms in the park. A pang of guilt spread across her chest, or was it just heartburn from the strong espresso she had just gulped down.

Johnny knew to treat his wife carefully, “he has a new business idea and was just floating it by me, to see if I… wanted to invest”

Radio silence.

“He wants to open a bakery”

She turned back to her husband dramatically “he wants to sell bread! Why, my son working in a common bodega, I think not!”

"No, no, like… what do the French call it, with fancy cakes and things?” he reached

“Ohhh a patisserie? What a fine idea, if executed well. That will go down quite nicely! But what about the gallery?”

“Ohhhh best not to mention the gallery Moira, I am going to call our property manager this afternoon and deal with that. I think David needs the money to set this Patisserie up but I suppose he will notice if we buy all of the pastries!”

“Yet he comes to you for the seed money!” she rolled her eyes and frowned haughtily, Johnny was ever the enabler when it came to his loved ones.

“What else do you want me to do, cut him off? And we can’t continue indulging his art output now that he knows about it!”

“He wants a fresh start I suppose. Qui n’avance pas, recule”. Moira turned to look back at the park and enjoyed the scene of clouds reflected on the reservoir.

Sitting down at the dining table she opened her laptop and drafted a one-line email to David “Glad to hear you are coming back in time for cherry blossom season”. They would slip back into their usual pattern of co-dependence in no time.

 

**June**

“I can't believe you thought opening a bakery would suit your personality!” Chided Patrick, having just been dressed down by David for playfully attempting to flick a pinch of flour towards his cashmere sweater.   
"Look, I understand the customer base, surely that is the most valuable tool in business ownership" David flounced. "That and having the money" Patrick smirked at David waiting for a reaction. A month ago David might have taken this is a slight on his character instead of what he knew now; that Patrick was the world's most intent troll. In the end David's dream for a bakery had been reframed somewhat. Rent in Manhattan for a small boutique patisserie was just not realistic. The name had been decided on a stroll around the Central Park cherry blossoms with this mother on his return to the city. His father had been delighted about the name, of course.

Hiring Patrick came as a surprise. Once he had decided to create his Patisserie up in Brooklyn, still expensive but not Manhattan expensive, he had opened himself up to all the hipster chefs he could handle. He needed someone who knew their stuff but would respect his vision and ultimately his authority. David had always struggled with earning respect from hot, trendy guys with inflated egos. Patrick stood out and not in a good way.  His straight leg blue jeans were distracting in a sea of skinny ones, but he had actually been to culinary school back in Toronto. He had no social media presence, unlike a lot of the insta chefs they had vetted, but his creations tasted just as good as David's experiences in Paris and when he had his 'audition' (as Alexis referred to it) he really involved them both in his process. Alexis was treating it like The Voice, but with carbs. She wanted to know candidate’s back stories, she interviewed them on their creative process as they tried to focus on baking. Patrick was not condescending towards Alexis and illuminated David on his techniques for making jam donut fillings absolutely perfect. David would never look at a donut in the same way ever again. The following weeks allowed David’s vision of a tiled floor to be fitted while he and Alexis created a brand and Patrick tested all his recipe ideas out on a willing David, who regularly, silently, congratulated himself on the best business idea ever.

**July**

The opening went off without a hitch. David’s choice for the position of hostess/server turned out to be inspired. When asked why she should be offered the role Stevie had responded perhaps too honestly: “I graduated college last week and if I don’t get offered this job, I can’t afford the rent in Bushwick so I will have to relocate to my hometown of Schitt’s Creek and become a social outcast working in my aunt’s motel.” She folded her arms, applying David with an expectant stare.

Charmed by her acerbic wit, David had seen this response as a sign of the perfect host for a hip yet exclusive venue with highly contested table reservations. She had turned out to be really good at pitching in with messy, simple jobs in the kitchen during quieter moments and got along with Patrick like a house on fire.

 

**August**

 One night Stevie and David went out for cocktails after closing, it had been a DAY. Some snobby Manhattan Mom had brought her group of friends along having heard about the place, no doubt from Moira via a chain of other overprivileged underworked residents in 5th Avenue. Anyway, while the trip would no doubt lead to a lucrative new set of regular customers at Rose Patisserie, these women were high maintenance. Patrick declined their invite to work on some low-carb cronuts for their burgeoning new customer base. “An impossible task” he shook his head at David’s suggestion, frustrated. David delighted in the little moments of drama where Patrick’s culinary talent and usual creative freedom were compromised by the demands of needy, spoilt customers and he smiled wanly at Patrick’s furrowed brow.

Before he could think of a retort, Stevie pushed through the kitchen door, lifting her satchel over her shoulder yelling “David, let’s go, I need alcohol like 5 hours ago”

Patrick chuckled at her "You only did a five hour shift today" unsmiling, she replied "precisely".

Two old-fashioneds later she smirked at David, who had given up delicately trying to finish up his drink without slurping through his straw and was necking the dregs of it, announcing “you do know Patrick is into you, right?” David choked on his ice. Eyes bulging, he recovered from a minor coughing fit and said “excuse me?” derisively. She pressed on, “Patrick, the dough puncher in the kitchen?” David studiously avoided eye contact with her. “come on David, I see the way you look at his forearms when he’s rolling out biscuit mix and you think he’s not looking” She gave him a knowing look and confidently took a sip of her drink, silently awaiting his response. David grimaced.

“um, that is offensive!” he gave her a look of faux shock.

“seriously David he looks at you the same way when you take an age setting petit fours out onto plates”

“Sorry no, Stevie. He’s a Culinary school grad with a penchant for team sports and he is NOT into me”

Patrick had dragged them to the Flying Puck one night in July for “the most important game of the year” and David still couldn’t tell you exactly what game it was but the strong men getting angry were something to behold. As was Patrick's bro energy level in the sea of Canadians stood at the bar.

Stevie gave David a look, and didn’t get the chance to respond before he distracted her from further grilling about his workplace crush with another round of cocktails from the server. At least with Stevie he felt she genuinely enjoyed his company and paid attention to him, even if he was footing the bill, and also her employer, let’s face it.

 

**October**

After months of confusion and tension. It had finally happened. It was the week before Halloween and Patrick had gone all out on icing delicate biscuits with spoopy toppings. At the start of the month Stevie thought she would never get enough of his sugary ghost biscuits but by the 25th she was done with them, at least until next year. She left work as soon as the place cleared out and she had wiped down the tables. David was applying eyeliner to Patrick, who was sat on the Patisserie counter now that all was cleaned up and locked down. David had decided to try out a look for a Halloween ball Alexis was throwing and Patrick had the perfect face to be transformed into a Jack Skellington inspired skull.

“But isn’t that more of a Christmas theme?” Patrick had protested weakly, submitting to David’s whim all too quickly. Sometimes Patrick worried that maybe he was too transparent these days, but David was his boss, and he loved this job so much.

“We are absolutely not doing skeletons for Christmas” said David as he unzipped his pouch full of makeup. David applied white makeup to Patrick’s lips and turned back to his supplies to find the brush to do the fine detail of teeth. Patrick had closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of David’s fingertips smoothing makeup over his cupids bow to create a perfectly matte finish. When David turned back to him, his eyes were still shut, and David stood still, unable to move. When Patrick eventually opened his eyes, confused as to what was going on, David couldn’t tear his gaze away from those nut brown eyes.

It had been months of denial. They had both innocently shaken off Stevie’s multiple insinuations about their late nights perfecting new ranges of seasonal treats. Stevie had counselled David on his feelings for Patrick but he too had been too scared to make a move or risk the professional relationship he had with his chef. Besides, they all knew Patrick had taken the job as means to be able to leave his home town and move on from his high school sweetheart. It was nothing more.

But then Patrick moved forward, closing in on David’s mouth. Goddammit he was ruining David’s makeup work but wait a minute, David's mind finally caught on to reality. Patrick was actually kissing David, really kissing him, hungrily. Patrick tasted like icing sugar, of course. They were making out like it was homecoming and for Patrick, it kind of was. David committed, feeling safe in the knowledge that Patrick definitely wanted this and that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to stop any time soon. The forgotten brush fell from his hand as he wrapped his big warm hands behind Patrick’s neck, up against the counter, up against Patrick's chest. Patrick wove his arms around David’s shoulders.  Stage makeup smeared all over David’s lips as he kissed his pastry chef back.

**Author's Note:**

> I would probably not have tried AU without this challenge, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> I hope it reads okay and isn't too confusing.  
> Written for Open Fic Night June 2019


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